No Light, But Darkness Visible
by cecilyjones
Summary: Pilot didn't die in the destruction of the Power Base. In fact, her struggle has only begun.
1. Chapter 1

No Light, but Darkness Visible

(or Pilot's Not Dead, Darn it!)

by Cecily

"A dungeon horrible, on all sides round

As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames

No light, but rather darkness visible

Served only to discover sights of woe"

--Milton, _Paradise Lost_

Chapter 1

47-12 Mark 25

Numb. Rage. Despair. All of it together. Scout didn't know what to feel. So the numbness grew--easiest to be frozen, helpless. Especially when the Captain had turned into a statue. Power's initial grief had fallen away, and now he moved with a practical efficiency. It was unreal. Scout wanted to shake him.

They'd never lost anyone before. They'd come close--they'd been lucky. Until now.

After loading up the skybike--Pilot's last gift--they took to the air. What else could they do but keep moving? Out of habit, Scout checked the comm system at his station. A blinking light on the display drew him out of his haze. With a sinking feeling, he realized what it meant.

The computer had recorded Pilot's last transmission.

He glanced at the Captain, who stared ahead without seeming to actually see anything. Scout wouldn't tell him. Maybe later. A few hours, or days.

In fact, he thought for a moment it might be better for everyone if he deleted it.

Almost against his will, though, he put on the headphones and punched in the replay command.

_"No, Jon! Stay clear--"_

The recording had captured the entire nightmare exchange. Scout had never heard the Captain sound so desperate. He'd never heard Pilot sound so scared.

But she was defiant, true to herself, right to the end. _"Go to hell!"_ she shouted at the biodread. Then a click of a button, a roar, then cut to static.

Static. All that was left. But before that, Scout could almost use the sounds to work out exactly what had happened, where she'd been, how she'd made her stand. She'd have turned, then heard the whine as the biodread raised its weapon, the click as she activated the reactor's destruct, then a hum, then a roar, then--

He played the recording again, just the last three seconds. The click, then the hum--he assumed that was the explosion. But it was too close. There was something else happening.

He fed the recording into the analysis program. Filtered out identifiable sounds--voices, fire, static. What was left: a strangely familiar hum, with a whine rising in pitch. He gave the computer a command: _identify_.

The reply took only a second. _84 probability: digitization beam_.

"You've got to be kidding," Scout murmured, disbelieving, unwilling to indulge in the slightest hope.

"Scout? Is something wrong?" the Captain said.

"Besides the obvious?" Scout said, then immediately added, "Sorry. It's just--I think I've found something."

"What is it?"

Scout hesitated. This was going to be tough. Saying the words, playing the recording--he took a deep breath. "The comm captured a recording of that last transmission. There was an anomaly, right at the end. Here, let me play it for you--"

"Don't." Power's voice was rough. "I don't think--"

Scout looked at him. "Just the last few seconds. I wouldn't do it if it wasn't important."

The Captain dropped his gaze and nodded. Scout touched the button. "Go to hell!" Pilot yelled again, then the whine, then the static.

Scout continued. "Here's the same thing, with everything filtered out but that last whine." He played it again. Over the speakers, in the open, the sound was unmistakable.

Tank said, "I've heard that before."

Hawk glanced at Tank, then at Scout, his jaw open, amazed. "Is that what I think it is?"

Power stared. "Sergeant Baker, what are you implying?"

"There's a chance--if she was digitized, if the biodread's memory banks survived the explosion--there's a chance she's alive."

The rumble of the ship's engines filled the silence. A long silence. Scout's mind was still numb. He couldn't make the choice--decide whether to latch on to the faint piece of evidence and take action. The odds were too much. Or too little.

"How much of a chance?" Power said.

Scout swallowed. "A small chance."

Said out loud, the choice wasn't hard at all.

"Hawk," the Captain said. "Turn the ship around. We'll land. Off-load the skybikes. We can sneak through a transit gate, to the base. See what's left."

Power spoke with unnatural calm, his voice flat, like a man who was numb. They all had to stay numb for a little while longer. They had work to do.

Time enough later to beat his fists against a wall.

The ship banked and rocketed ahead.

-------------------

They either worked, or they gave into rage. So they worked, calmly and silently. Hawk flew in his suit, the others rode skybikes. The transit gate into the base had been cut off by the explosion. They jumped in as close as they could, then rode hard the rest of the way, as fast as they could.

An hour and ten minutes after the explosion, they arrived at the mountain ridge south of the base. Too long. Dread would send troops to scavenge the place. It was a race and they'd already taken too long.

They parked the bikes and climbed the ridge to an overlook. Hawk was already there and waiting, peering through a set of binoculars at the base--at where the base used to be.

The mountainside had a crater, like a giant had come along and scooped out a handful of rock. Half of the mountain was gone--the hole where the base had rested. It wasn't their base anymore. It was a pile of anonymous debris.

Scout activated the telescopic function on his face shield. Sure enough, Dread had troops here already. Biomechs crawled over the site, commanded by overunits in protective radiation suits. They kicked their way through broken sheets of metal and tangled wires, some of them still burning, desecrating the base's grave, swarming like maggots.

Hawk handed the binoculars to the Captain. Scout watched for his reaction. The Captain gazed--but didn't react. Still not feeling. His whole life reduced to ash, Pilot missing, and he was stone.

"Scout, scan the area. Any sign of the biodread, any sign of life. Any sign of Pilot."

The energy readings were thick and scattered. Radiation from the destroyed reactor covered the crater. He filtered out what he could and found a familiar signature--a biodread transmission.

"Captain, I'm picking up a trace of Blastarr. I think it survived."

"There--there it is."

The Captain pointed. A squad of biomechs carried pieces--shining, gleaming pieces of quicksilver metal. Biodread parts.

Hawk said, "They wouldn't be in there if there wasn't something to salvage."

"So we go in," Tank said. "Hit them hard. Take it from them."

The Captain handed the binoculars back to Hawk. "No."

They all turned to him. Scout said, "We're not going in?"

"No." Cold as ice.

Now, the dam burst. The numbness slipped, replaced by rage. "And why exactly not, _sir_?"

"It's not the time or place."

Scout nearly screamed. "What do you mean, not the time or place? We've hit twice as many troops as this, places twice as fortified. We've attacked Volcania! Don't you want her back?"

The Captain lunged at him. Scout didn't have a chance to blink before Power grabbed the neck of his armor and slammed him back against the rock.

"Even if we can recover the biodread, even if we can contain it after it regenerates, which is highly doubtful given our current situation, even then we have no way of accessing its memory banks and retrieving what's inside. We don't have the technology to rematerialize her safely. I want her back more than you will ever know but we have to let her go. We have to let Dread take her. _Then_ we go after her. We have to wait. Do you understand?"

Scout nodded warily.

The Captain gave him a last angry shove, then slid down the hill, away from them.

Scout started to go after him. "Captain!"

Hawk and Tank each grabbed one of his arms to stop him. "Let him go," Hawk said. "Just let him go for now."

They all stared after the Captain. Tank said, "I don't know how we're going to get through this one."

Scout knew exactly what he meant. They'd been through hell, the five of them. At least, it had seemed like hell at the time. But this was something else entirely. He looked back to the ruins of the base.

"I'm going in," Scout said, resolved.

Hawk growled at him. "No. The Captain's right. I hate it as much as you do, but he's right."

Scout shook his head. "I can sneak in there. Plant a homing transmitter with the biodread so we know where it ends up. Take a close up scan of the ruins. Make sure she really isn't there." Make sure there was no body, no trace of remains. He didn't want to say the words. "Just give me twenty minutes."

He punched a series of buttons on his wrist control panel. A holographic image of a biomech shimmered into place over his power suit.

"You have fifteen," Hawk said.

Scout gave him a thumbs up, then hopped over the ridge and slid down into the still-smoking crater.

Fifteen minutes later, three skybikes and a winged human figure were airborn, cruising low to the ground, out of the grasping reach of Dread's troops' radar.

Scout had found no sign of human remains in the ruins.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

47-12 Mark 31

Jon walked up the steps into the ship. He stepped back, startled, when a figure moved out of the shadows of the hold and into the light: a woman, petite, wearing a khaki flight suit. She had a clear gaze, a bright expression.

This wasn't real. She was gone. Taken from him.

Jennifer's blond hair was loose, framing her face, draped just over her shoulders. It gave her a rumpled look, relaxed and happy. Less severe than the pony tail--or the tightly pinned back style of the Dread Youth, which she had when he'd first met her. She'd worn it loose more and more as time went on. He liked it.

She gave a wry, lopsided smile and crossed her arms. His heart pounded fast.

"Hi, Jon," she said. "We never finished our talk."

He set his jaw, but he felt his expression twist with pain anyway. He'd finished that talk in his mind a hundred times. It went differently each time. All the things he should have said--

"I love you, Jon. So much," she said softly, the smile falling away.

He'd heard those words speak to him from memory so many times.

"Jennifer," he said. If he could say anything to her-- He closed his eyes, took a breath, looked at her, met her gaze. Her gray eyes were so clear. "I fell in love with you the first time I saw you smile. But I didn't know it. I didn't realize that was what I was feeling until you went on that mission to the med lab. I hated sending you there alone, and I knew what I would lose if something happened to you. I couldn't stand it. I--" His throat closed; he looked away. "I told you then that you weren't alone, and when it mattered the most I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry--"

"Sh, Jon." She stepped close to him, reached up and touched his face. "It's okay."

"I'm coming to get you. As soon as I get word, I'll come get you and bring you home."

"I know," she said, and smiled.

His arms closed around her, and hers around him. He bent his head to her and kissed her. He held her tightly--and his arms closed on nothing. She was gone, turned to mist. He stumbled forward--

His body flinched, and he woke up, afraid he was tumbling out of his bunk. The room was dark. Nighttime, still. Tank would be on watch at this hour. Jon was supposed to be sleeping. He'd gotten so little sleep these past few days.

Six days. It had only been six days. It felt like forever.

He missed her.

He rolled over, pulled the blanket up, wrapped his arms around his head. But that didn't keep out the voice in his memory.

-----------------------

48-2 Mark 26

Finally, the signal came over an East Coast Resistance radio broadcast.

"I see a light in the tunnel," said Freedom Two's determined voice. "Repeat: I see a light in the tunnel. This is Freedom Two, signing out."

They'd agreed in advance that Jon would go alone, on a skybike. If it was a trap, they wouldn't all be captured, and one of them had a better chance of escaping than all of them. When they heard the broadcast, no one said a word. Jon looked at each of his team members, and saw a mixture of pain and hope in all their faces. He couldn't guess what they saw in him. He'd kept himself numb. He'd stopped feeling. His face was a mask. Grimly, Jon left the ship, powered on his suit, and took the skybike away from the temporary camp they'd made.

In an hour, he reached the rendezvous point, an abandoned settlement on the coast. He left the bike and approached on foot, holding his gun ready. He hadn't seen any trouble. That only made him more nervous.

He turned the corner around a shattered building and found Elzer Pulaski, Freedom Two, seated on a broken slab of concrete. He cautiously raised his hands, to show he was unarmed.

"We're all clear, Captain," he said. "I've got people securing the perimeter."

With a sigh, Jon holstered his gun. "It's good to see you, Elzer."

"Likewise." Elzer stood, and the two men shook hands. "How are you and the others holding up?"

"We're holding," Jon said. "That's about it."

"I've got news." The dark-haired man pulled a data disk out of a pocket. "The biodread really took a beating, but it finally regenerated. They got her, Jon. They got her out."

Jon closed his eyes and the breath went out of him. What was worse: believing her to be dead, or knowing she was alive and yet not being able to get to her? She was in enemy hands and he couldn't do a thing about it.

"What's her condition?"

"She underwent surgery for her injuries seven days ago. She's stable, now. They want her alive."

"Scout's transmitter tracked the biodread to a research base in Sector 18 before it was blocked."

"She's still there," Elzer said quietly and handed him the disk. "That has maps, intercepted transmissions, everything I could get."

The disk felt like treasure in his hand. "Not a medical facility. Not a prison. Why?"

"That I don't know. But if I had to guess: I think this is a trap. The data practically fell into my contact's hands. Dread has to know that you'll come after her."

"We have to take that chance." Not just for her, and not just for them. Pilot knew everything about the Resistance, the identities of all the leaders, the location of the Passages, the existence of Eden II--they had to get her out before Dread could pry any of that out of her. Pilot would resist interrogation as long as she could, he had no doubt. But Dread had other ways of breaking people.

He had to lock that thought away. He had to not picture Jennifer in that situation, or he would burst. Succumb to grief and madness. This was a mission. Just another mission. Had to be impersonal, for a little while longer.

"I know. Any of us would do the same for her. Captain--" He put his hand on Jon's shoulder. "She's tough. A survivor. I've seen it first hand. She'll hold on for you."

"I know. That's why we can't waste any more time."

"Be careful," Elzer said.

"You, too," Jon said, and saluted as he turned and trotted back to the skybike.

----------------------

48-3 Mark 1

Jonathan Power took shelter in the doorway of the lab room at the end of the corridor and watched for biomechs while Scout searched inside. This was taking too long, and the knowledge that this might all be an elaborate trap weighed heavier and heavier. He and Scout should have found her by now, but the place was a maze. They only knew that she was in this wing. They didn't know what room. In the meantime, they scavenged for any medical supplies and data they stumbled across. They didn't leave an inch of this place untouched, looking for her.

Tank and Hawk had rigged distractions outside. The base's security had scrambled to face what looked like a direct assault.

Scout called from inside the room, "Captain!"

After a final glance down both ends of the corridor, Power ducked inside.

Toward the back of the lab, in a section dimly lit by recessed fluorescent lighting and medical scanners, Scout stood next to a gurney, where a body lay. It seemed small, thin, maybe because it was dressed in flimsy shirt and trousers, like medical scrubs. An IV line was taped to one arm, oxygen tube inserted in the nose, and a mass of wires connected to the head amidst a tangle of blond hair.

Jon wasn't sure what he'd expected. He'd braced for the worst: seeing her abandoned and dying in a dank prison cell; strapped to a chair and tortured to death. Seeing her in the uniform of a Dread Youth, converted back to her old life.

What he saw here was sterile. She looked almost peaceful.

He moved closer and saw her face, partially obstructed by electronic implants imbedded into her left cheek, continuing around her eye socket and up into her scalp. Wires and steel lay flush with her skin, machine melding into flesh, edged with pink, only recently healed. Trailing lines led from the implants to the computer banks.

He touched her face. She was unconscious, didn't react. But that was the familiar slope of jaw, straight nose, and thin, pensive mouth. Gray eyes. She had gray eyes. When they were open.

"What have they done to her?" he said quietly.

"I don't know. But I've got the medical logs right here." Scout held up a data disk. His gaze was piercing, even behind the face shield of his helmet.

Power let his breath out in a sigh. "Can we move her? Is she well enough to move?"

Scout pointed. "That looks like a monitor there. If I'm reading it right, her vitals are all stable. Her ribs are bandaged. The IV is probably just to keep her hydrated. I have no clue what this mess is." He nodded at the wires and cybernetic implant.

One way or another, he wouldn't leave her. He'd vowed that even if he found her broken, dead, he wouldn't leave her. "Disconnect those wires."

He got to work. Carefully, Power slid the IV needle out of her arm and replaced the tape over the puncture wound. Scout took a little longer. So many wires, and he removed each one from the implants with a surgeon's care.

Finally, Jennifer was free. Power picked her up, cradling her as best he could in his armor. She'd never been big, but now she seemed light as air. "Cover me, Scout." The two of them trotted out of the lab and into the corridor. Time to signal the cavalry. "Jumpship, do you read me?"

"Captain, Hawk here."

"We got what we came for, let's get out of here."

There was a second's pause. "You found her. Is she all right? What--"

"Not now, Hawk, just get to the evac point."

Their timing was perfect. The ship landed at the base's auxiliary supply platform, steps down, just as he and Scout left the building. Scout stayed behind, pushing the Captain ahead, even though Power's instinct was to be the last one on board. Make sure his people were safe first. But he had precious cargo this time.

Scout nearly stepped on his heels following him, though. He shouldn't have worried.

"Hawk, get us out of here!" he called before the door closed. The ship lurched and climbed.

Tank was waiting with a stretcher. He helped Jon arrange her safely. The large man started to touch the metallic implants, but held back. He said, "What is it?"

"I don't know. Scout, scan her for transmitters, then upload those medical logs. We have to figure this out."

Jon knew this was too easy--they'd practically walked in, taken her, and walked back out. This was a trap, and they'd taken the bait. Anything could happen now.

But for the first time in over two months, he was able to sit back and breathe.

Jennifer was alive, and she was home.

----------------------------

They didn't go back to the Passages. If they were in the middle of Dread's trap, they wanted to keep that safe haven protected. Until they knew all the implications of what had happened, they were on their own.

They'd rigged a terminal for Mentor aboard the ship. The processing speed wasn't anything like it had been, but they deactivated the visual display and audio output and saved memory that way. It wasn't the same. The hold of the ship had become their defacto base. Portable--Dread couldn't find it. It wasn't their weak spot anymore.

They gathered around the terminal in the ship's hold. Jennifer slept in a cubby-hole of a bunk nearby. Slept. Jon hoped she only slept.

Reports were mixed about what digitization did to the victim, if it truly gave Dread access to everything the victim knew. Jon could safely guess now that digitization didn't lay the victim's mind bare. Dread could have learned everything from Jennifer, but all those secrets were still safe. Whatever Dread had done to Jennifer, she hadn't told him anything.

Uncharacteristically somber, Scout crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "After that last fight, she had a half-dozen broken ribs, a concussion, internal bleeding. They stabilized her, but she's still not completely healed."

First question: Jon asked, "What happened to her power suit?"

Scout said, "Destroyed during reintegration. I'm guessing that without a full charge, the circuitry couldn't withstand the stress. If it makes you feel better, it looks like a couple of Overunits got demoted over that."

A small favor, that Dread still didn't have access to that piece of technology. Jon nodded. "And the implant?"

"The implant contains a computer processor designed to intercept the synapses of the cerebral cortex. Higher thought processes, consciousness. Specifically, it fools the mind into thinking it's still digitized. Leaves the body comatose. They wanted to be able to use her as a pawn against you, without her giving them trouble."

It wouldn't have taken interrogation or reading her mind to guess how Jon felt about her. Dread--Taggert--knew him well, even after all these years. Jon remembered what were nearly her last words, spoken in a pain-filled panic over a tenuous radio connection: _I love you, Jon._

Had to keep moving forward. Couldn't look back, dwell, or regret.

"But she's alive. She's still in there somewhere."

"She's got an active brain scan. So, yes."

"Can you remove it?"

Scout pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. "It's embedded too deeply into her brain tissue. I couldn't do it without doing serious damage. Not with our equipment. If we could find a surgeon with Dread's level of technology--" Even then, Scout shrugged doubtfully.

Jon maintained his calm, didn't let his voice show a hint of anger or despair. A master surgeon with the finest tools probably couldn't do the job. "Can you deactivate it?"

Finally, Scout smiled. "I think I can."

Jon closed his eyes and let himself hope.

-----------------------------

She looked better. Scout had removed much of the extraneous hardware. Steel circuitry still lay flush against her skin, making her look like she belonged in some Flame Street dive. With a quick touch, Jon smoothed her hair away from her face.

"She can't hear us, or sense us at all?"

"Hard to tell, Captain. Judging by her brain scans she looks like she's having one hell of a nightmare. But you wouldn't know it looking at her. Who knows what's going on in there."

She lay on a stretcher in the hold, to be closer to Mentor's terminal, and so the others could help if they needed to. Scout had made it clear he didn't know what would happen. She could sit up and be the same as she had the last time they saw her alive. Or they could lose her.

Jon had tucked a blanket over her, folded her hands over it. She really did look like she only slept.

Scout had inserted a couple of wires into the implants. They trailed away, connecting to the computer terminal. Tank monitored Jennifer's vital signs. Hawk watched a display showing power levels. They were trying to establish a network between the implant and Mentor, so Mentor could absorb and erase the feedback loop that had trapped her consciousness, without erasing her. Scout stayed by the stretcher, studying the maze of circuitry.

Jon had nothing to do but stand by Jennifer's side and watch. A year ago he might have thought it important to maintain his demeanor of command--stay apart, stay calm. Not now. He held Jennifer's hands. Maybe she'd know he was there, somehow. She would find her way back to him. They felt thin and limp in his grip.

Scout made another adjustment to a wire, let out a nervous sigh, then leaned over Hawk's shoulder to stare at the monitor. "Mentor, are you patched into the feedback program?"

Text scrolled up the screen, and Scout pointed. "Yeah, there it is. Now to isolate it. . ." He tapped a few keys.

Jon watched her face. No reaction.

"Okay. I'm ready to shut it down. Just give the word."

"Do it." His jaw tightened.

Scout touched a key; the text on the screen disappeared.

Nothing happened. Rather, everything happened internally, on the level of electrons and synapses, impossible to see. Jon's heart pounded, waiting. They all watched; the air was frozen with silence.

Her eyes flashed open.

For a moment, her gaze flickered; she seemed to see them, to recognize them.

Then, she arched her neck back and screamed.

Her whole body convulsed, the muscles spasming, her back writhing. She kicked the blanket and almost twisted off the gurney. Jon threw himself at her, pinning her shoulders to the mattress with his arm. He tried to still her legs, but the seizure was too strong. The scream continued, a noise of such desperate pain and fear that it tore at Jon's gut. Tank and Hawk were on their feet, moving to help.

Scout jabbed a syringe into her shoulder and pumped in a dose of sedative. He'd been ready for this.

In a moment, the scream quieted to a whimper, then to silence. Her writhing stilled, her muscles relaxed. She melted in Jon's grip, sinking back against the bed. She suddenly seemed heavy. Her head tilted to the side. Her mouth hung open.

Jon's hand shook when he touched the artery at her neck. It pulsed, slowly but steadily. He let out the breath he'd been holding.

He said, "That couldn't have been good."

Scout was at the monitor, studying something on the screen. He double checked the read-out of her vitals while the others looked on.

"Actually, take a look at this." For the first time through this ordeal, his voice turned quick, taking on its usual brightness. "It's the scan of her current brain activity. Compare that to the previous one. This--" He pointed at the newer scan, with its calm and steady lines, as opposed to the jagged, erratic lines of the previous scan. "This is what the brain scan of a normal, sleeping person looks like. Captain--she's asleep. This may be the first real sleep she's had in weeks. I say we let her go. Wait for her to wake up on her own." He shrugged and seemed entirely too casual about the whole thing.

Wait? How could he stand it?

But really, it was a small price to pay for the possibility of a second chance.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Voices.

_She's unstable. Resisting._

_Of course she's resisting. Increase the power. Overwhelm her. She will be broken._

_If the tissue damage becomes too great--_

The lights gave her such a stabbing headache, but she couldn't turn away or close her eyes.

_Ah, the young traitor. You had such promise and now look at you. We should thank you. All your memories, your thoughts--all of them will become ours, and we will learn all of Power's secrets. How does that feel? You are a traitor again._

She tried to deny it. Tried to block out the pain--she reverted to the training of the Dread Youth. Feel nothing. Emotion is a sign of weakness, reject emotion and you are strong, like the machine--

A flash of a room appeared, banks of computers around her, she was lying flat, there were people but she couldn't see them clearly. She tried to piece together the memories, to make the story of what had happened to her since the motion of her hand on a keypad destroyed the base's reactor: light, then pain. She'd expected that, explosion then death, she only hoped it didn't last too long. Light and pain, then darkness--but the pain didn't end. All that was left was pain. After an eternity, the light flared again. She fell hard on a tile floor, and spotlights glared at her, then the voices started. _Quickly, sedate her. Prep for surgery. Assess internal damage. Lord Dread wants her repaired--_

Captured. Digitized by Blastarr and recovered by Overmind. She hadn't expected that at all.

_When the time is right, we will show you to Power like this. The sight will break him._

_This_ was why she should have died. She wouldn't hurt him, she would never--

_The program is in place?_

_Yes._

No! she tried to scream--

She blacked out again. Life became a series of conscious flashes, disconnected, incomprehensible. Each time she opened her eyes, she had to sort out all over again where she was, what was happening. She'd given up trying to keep track of the situation. Instead, she held onto her core, the beliefs she had discovered on her own and kept close to her heart: Dread and his New Order must be stopped; she had good friends who were working toward that goal; she loved Jon.

"Pilot! Jennifer! Get down!" An explosion shook her to wakefulness. Startled, she looked around. Sparks and fire burned; an explosion rattled the walls. She could move this time. She rolled off the bed, crouched in its shelter, and tried to see what was happening.

Captain Power, spectacular in his gold-toned armor, hunkered in the doorway of the laboratory and fired into the corridor. Scout and Tank were with him. Hawk was probably flying patrol, luring away biodreads.

Power looked over his shoulder, back at her. "Jennifer!" He was the one who had called her.

He left the others to cover to the doorway and ran back to where she was crouched. She couldn't help it; she started crying.

Jon knelt by her, gripped her arms, wiped the tears off her cheek. "We're getting you out of here."

She didn't question how it had happened. She should have been dead.

That was strange, wasn't it, that she remembered dying?

She ran with them. Biomech troopers toppled before them, fell twitching in their wake. Then they were on the ship, with Hawk, everything just the way it ought to be. They were all smiling, so happy, and she was so happy to be with them again.

The Captain gestured to the pilot's chair. Her chair. "You want to do the honors? Fly us home?"

Home. It sounded so good. She was surprised, though. She shouldn't have been in any condition to fly. How long had she been out of it? Seemed like years. But she felt fine.

Her smile fell. She didn't feel anything. She ran her hand along the back of the chair and looked at her friends.

"Home. To the base?" If she hadn't really died, maybe the base was still there.

"No. To the Passages," Jon said, smiling. He hadn't taken off his helmet. She wished he would take it off, so she could see his whole face. How long had it been? She didn't know.

Jennifer looked away. "That probably isn't a good idea. I'm pretty weak. With everything that's happened, I should probably rest."

"Nonsense," Hawk said. "Go ahead, fly the damn ship. You know you want to. Get us to the Passages, then you can rest."

The four men formed a half circle around her, pinning her against the pilot's chair. They were all smiling.

Tank never smiled. At least, not like that, like he wanted to get something from her.

"I'm really not feeling well."

Jon stepped forward, took hold of her hands, guided them to the controls. "Come on. Just show us the way to the Passages."

It wasn't Jon.

She planted her shoulder against his chest and shoved.

She had just the right angle to throw him off balance, but the others were waiting for her. They were all so much bigger than she was. If she could run fast enough. . .

Tank grabbed her, wrapping one arm around her middle and hauling her off her feet.

This wasn't right, this wasn't Tank, this wasn't the jumpship, this wasn't real. She screamed--

_My Lord Dread, it didn't work. Again._

_Then try again. Sedate her, stop that noise._

The world went dark.

-----------

Jon moved a chair so he could sit close to her. They'd moved her to a bunk. He'd dimmed the lights in the hold, to make the place more comfortable for sleeping. The others were in other parts of the ship, working on their own tasks. He'd found he couldn't leave her alone. Not again. Not now.

"Jon?" Hawk stood at the top of the ladder. "Have some food. You should eat."

He didn't think he'd be hungry, but his stomach rumbled. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. He stood and met Hawk at the base of the ladder. "Thanks, Matt."

He offered Jon a plate of something reconstituted and warm. Maybe one of these days they could invent a reason to meet with an Eden II representative and score another orange. At least it was food.

"How is she?" he nodded toward the bunk.

"Sleeping. I think."

Hawk smiled wryly. "I can hardly believe it. It's a miracle, right when we needed one."

"You know what they say about something being too good to be true."

"We're all thinking it, Jon."

"It was too easy. We found her because Dread wanted us to find her. We've taken the bait."

Hawk didn't argue. Jon hoped he would argue, offer a piece of evidence to show that his fears were unfounded.

But Hawk must have been thinking the same thing. "We'll watch our step. We'll be careful."

"I'm just--I'm scared. What if she isn't the same? We don't know what they're using her for, what the trap is--"

Hawk put a hand on his shoulder. "One step at a time. Wait until she wakes up. Then we'll see."

He returned to the vigil at her bedside.

He told her once that she'd never be alone, that they would always be there for her. But she had been alone--she'd almost died alone--and that image never left him. He still heard her voice. _Think of me sometimes._

All the time.

"Jon?"

The voice came from memory. He'd been dozing, the plate of half-eaten food balanced precariously in his lap. Reflexively, he looked at Jennifer, habitually checking yet again for any change.

Her eyes were open and looking back at him.

The plate clattered to the floor as he jumped to his feet. He took her hand, touched her cheek. "Jennifer."

"Are you real?" Her voice was hoarse, barely audible--atrophied and unused. She sounded so sick and weak. But it was her.

He smiled. "Yes, I'm real. We're in the jumpship."

She said, "I died."

He nodded, unable to speak. He wanted to tell her to be quiet, that she should rest, that she was safe now. That he loved her.

"I've seen you in dreams." Her brow furrowed, confused. "But they felt real. Is this real?"

She'd been through hell and back, he reminded himself. They still didn't know all of what Dread had done to her. She had a lot of healing ahead of her.

"Sh, Jennifer. You're safe now. Please believe me."

"I do, Jon. I do." Her body was even weaker than her voice. She reached toward him, and her hand shook. She brushed a clumsy finger on his cheek.

"You're not dead, Jennifer," he said. "Not any more."

He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips--gently. Like he should have done a long time ago.

He looked at her; she stared back wonderingly, lips parted in amazement. Then she smiled, weakly. The best thing he'd ever seen.

"I wish we'd finished our talk," she whispered.

"We have a second chance. No regrets, all right?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're awake!" Tank had appeared at the ladder into the hold. "Pilot!" He started for the bunk, then turned back to the ladder, to shout into the ship's cabin. "She's awake! Hawk, Scout!"

"Everyone's here," she said wonderingly. She tried to lift her head; the tendons in her neck strained, then she gave up and just lay there. She'll get better, Jon told himself. It was a small price to have her back. He hardly noticed the Dread hardware implanted on the side of her face.

Tank rushed to her bedside, his massive frame all but trembling with suppressed enthusiasm--he looked like he was valiantly restraining himself from scooping her up and spinning around the room with her.

Hawk and Scout were hard on his heels, and soon the four of them gathered around her. They were all here, a team again.

She squeezed her eyes shut, as if wincing from a headache, and turned her head away. "I saw this in a dream," she murmured. "It's not real."

"Jennifer." Jon couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice. "What do you remember? Go back to the beginning, back at the base."

She focused on him again, and he gave a small sigh. She wasn't all the way back to him yet. If she could just hold on a little longer. . .

She took a deep breath, then another, gathering her strength. "I remember the base. Clickers everywhere. Talking to you on the radio, Jon. I had to tell you--had to tell you everything but there's no time--" He smoothed her hair, hushed her gently, until she settled back into her story. "I was hurting, the biodread was there, then--" She shook her head. "I know there's more. But it was confusing. It didn't seem real. There was a lab, but it kept changing." Her voice faded and she looked away. "Every time I wake up, it's different. Is this real? Please let this be real--" Her voice edged into panic, and tears dropped from her eyes.

He held her face between his hands, wiping tears away. "It's real," he whispered. He wouldn't let himself cry. He had to be her anchor.

He felt the presences of his teammates, tense, rigid with anxiety. They were anchors too.

"We're all here, we're all real," he told her. "You're not alone."

She looked at them all. The spark was back. The light--the life--in her eyes was growing. Her smile dawned again.

"It has to be real," she said. "This is the first time I've felt safe."

He caught her up in his arms, holding her close, as tightly as he dared. Weak as she was, she hugged him back, crying on his shoulder.

She was right. They really should have finished their talk.

She dozed off, in his arms, leaning against his shoulder as he sat at the edge of the bed. He didn't want the moment to end. As brutal as the last few months had been, however hurt she was, this brief moment seemed perfect. He'd never move again.

One by one, the others left them alone. Hawk stayed longest. "You should get some sleep, too, Jon. You need it as badly as she does."

"In a minute, Hawk," he said. "Just another minute."

Hawk smiled, smoothed back Jennifer's hair, and left the hold.

Finally, when he started to doze himself and had a vision of the both of them crashing to the floor when he lost his balance, he eased her back to the mattress, supporting her head until it lay on the pillow. He arranged her hands, pulled up the blanket, and touched her face one more time.

As he drew away, her eyes blinked open. "Jon?"

"I'm here." He took hold of her hands. She squeezed back.

"I don't want to sleep," she said, panic edging her voice. "When I wake up again it'll all be different, and I don't want this to change. You'll be gone, I'll be back in the lab--"

"I won't go. I'm not going to leave you." Never again.

She shook her head. "I don't want to sleep."

"You're still hurt. You need rest."

"I know," she said, anguished. "But I'm scared."

He couldn't leave her. An idea took him. He looked at her, looked at the bed. There'd be just enough room--

"Hold on a second." He untied and pulled off his boots.

A tired grin quirked her lips. A spark of the old Pilot. It heartened Jon to see it.

"You're planning something," she said. "I know that look."

He hopped up on the edge of the bed, stretched out beside her, and gathered her in his arms. She curled next to him, nestling into his embrace. There was barely enough room for both of them. But he'd never felt more comfortable.

"There," he said. "Now we can both sleep."

Smiling, she lay her head on his shoulder. In a handful of breaths, she was asleep.

In another handful, so was he.

-----------------

She awoke. The lab was empty. And she could move. She wasn't tied down to the table. And she remembered everything. Jon, she had to call Jon, if she could get to a comm terminal and let him know she was alive--

She swung her legs over, slid off the gurney--and fell. Her legs didn't support her. She couldn't feel them. Paralyzed. She tried to pull herself along the concrete floor. Had to get out, any way she could--

A figure blocked her path. He was tall, garbed all in black, shining armor, like the chitin of an insect. His eyes glowed red.

_Did you think it would be so easy, Youth Leader Chase?_

Not my name, she gasped, or tried to, but her voice had frozen as well. Corporal Chase, reporting--

_I'm not finished with you, yet._

He reached for her, and she flinched away in terror--

And gasped, her muscles clenching reflexively. She felt herself falling, but strong arms caught her and held her tight.

"Sh, it's okay. It was just a dream."

She was lying in bed with Jon, clutching the fabric of his shirt, her face pressed to his chest, and he was holding her. He was so warm and solid, and smelled of sweat and of living in close quarters--so human. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, to remember his smell.

But the dream lingered. Rather, the memory lingered.

"Jon. It wasn't a dream."

He continued hushing her, comforting her, brushing her hair with his fingers. Being with him like this had been such a dream of hers once, but that had been so long ago. Now, it was like tasting water in a desert, and she expected the oasis to disappear at any moment.

Her voice felt stronger. Speaking was easier, which gave her hope. "It's not over. They did something to me."

His finger traced a line up her left cheek. Then, sensation stopped, and she was aware of an ache, a tingling that had been there so long it had grown familiar. She lifted her hand to his, to feel what he touched. Metal. The wires and circuits of a machine, sunk into her skin and warmed by her body.

She wasn't surprised. Horrified, but not surprised.

She curled her fingers around his. He gripped her hand tightly. She said, "I was inside the machine. I still am."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

48-3 Mark 10

She grew stronger every day. At least, she liked to think she did. So much of those first few days was a blur. She slept most of the time. She'd spent two months unconscious, she'd thought have she'd have had enough of staying in bed.

Someone always stayed with her. She wanted to argue with them--they had so much work to do. They were living out of the jumpship now, traveling and trading help for supplies, striking at Dread when they could. Leaving one of them behind to look after her made the work harder. She was a burden to them. She had to get well, so she could help them again.

She owed them so much. She didn't want to be a burden. But she didn't trust herself to stay alone. She was still surprised when she opened her eyes and the room was the same. Someone--Scout, Tank, or Hawk, but most often Jon--was always sitting by her, keeping watch over her.

Then, she woke up from a fitful nap, uncertain what time of day it was even, looked over, and saw no one. The hold, where her bunk was, was empty. She was alone. She couldn't remember who'd been with her when she fell asleep. She couldn't focus enough to remember.

Was this real?

"Jon?" she called. Her voice was still rough, but stronger than it had been. She wasn't sure how far her voice carried, if anyone even heard her.

She sat up. The lights were low, maybe to help her sleep, maybe because it was nighttime. She listened hard--didn't hear anything. Where was everyone?

_Don't panic, Chase_, she told herself. Her heart was racing anyway. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

Taking a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bunk and set her feet on the floor. But when she tried to put weight on them, when she tried to stand, she fell. Her legs collapsed right out from under her, and she landed hard on the steel floor. She let out a hiss--just like the dream, just like that vision she had, she waited for Lord Dread to walk through the doorway--

No, she could feel her legs, tingling with numbness. She rubbed them. All the muscle tone she'd had a few months ago was gone. She wasn't paralyzed, just weak, terribly weak and unable to move on her own. She leaned back against the wall and blinked back tears.

"Jennifer!" Hawk appeared in the hatchway. He rushed to her side and crouched by her, gripping her shoulder in a panic.

She sighed with relief--nothing was wrong, everything was fine--and offered him a brave smile. "I didn't know where everyone had gone to. I thought I could stand and find somebody. I guess I was wrong." Her voice cracked and she quickly wiped her eyes to hide the tears, covering it all with a weak laugh.

Hawk leaned back on the wall beside her. "Awe, kid, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone. You were sleeping so soundly, I just went to check the comm channel--"

"No, Hawk, it's me--I don't want to be a chore, I hate that you all have to. . .to _babysit_ me. I hate being like this."

The look of pity on his face wrenched her heart. She glanced away. Scrubbed away more tears.

"You're not a chore," he said firmly. "Don't even think like that. After what you went through, you can't expect to bounce back in a day. You're lucky to even be in one piece. Relatively speaking." He finished with a shrug.

He was right. She knew he was right--usually was, as the "wise old man" of the team. He'd growl at her if he heard her call him that, though. The thought made her smile.

She straightened, squared her shoulders as well as she could, sitting hunched on the floor, and looked at him. "I want to walk. I have to start walking."

Slowly, a wry smile grew on Hawk's lips. "That's the Pilot I remember. Welcome back, kid."

He put his arm around her back and helped her to her feet.

-------------------------

She'd become Scout's latest science project. They had to learn what lurked in those wires in her brain.

She sat near Mentor's terminal. She'd walked there, all by herself, though it took a painfully long time, with her leaning on the bulkhead the whole way, and the effort left her exhausted. She didn't complain, though.

She watched the display while Scout prodded at the cyber-implants with a probe. He activated different switches and circuits, while Mentor traced the effects. The wires trailing from her head to the terminal made her vaguely uneasy. She missed the AI's visual display. The image of the gentle man's face had always comforted her.

"I bet we could find a slicer in Tech City who'd know exactly what to do with this stuff," Scout said conversationally.

"But I trust _you_," she answered.

He smirked. "Can I have that in writing?"

They'd already marked and destroyed the circuit that created the feedback loop that trapped her brain into thinking it was digitized. So much of that time was a blur, but she was glad she didn't remember.

Scout touched a spot. White light flashed against her eyes. She gasped as a wave of dizziness struck, and she braced herself on the computer panel.

"Whoa, sorry. What was that?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice shaking. "I saw light."

_That circuit is tied to the visual cortex_ Mentor reported. Then, _Eradicating it could blind her._

"Right," Scout said with a wry drawl. "That one stays."

It's an imaging system, she thought. She'd see what they, it--the machine--wanted her to see. "Mentor, is there a program currently running on the unit's processor?"

_None currently detected._

That didn't make her feel any better.

"Is the circuit active?" Scout said.

_Yes._

_We bide our time, and when we strike you won't even know it. You can only believe what your mind tells you. But is it telling you the truth?_

_My lord, she is resisting._

_You have felt the glory of the machine and still you resist? Overmind privileged you with its touch--and you rebel?_

Jennifer shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. That wasn't happening. This, sitting here with Scout in the jumpship, was real. Nothing else.

_That is what you believe._

"You okay?" Scout said, his brow furrowed with concern.

"I'm a little tired. I think I'd like to stop for the day, if that's all right."

"Sure, of course." He removed the wires without another word.

-----------------------

She lay on the table in the medical lab. The technicians never spoke to her, never acknowledged her. They didn't treat her like a person, but a machine. An organic machine. They didn't care if what they did to her hurt, because they could not acknowledge pain.

Then, they were all gone. She was alone.

Even better, she could move. No restraints this time, no sedatives, nothing to cloud her awareness. It had been so long since she'd been fully conscious and mobile. She sat up and slid off the bed.

This time, she could walk.

She moved carefully, slowly, expecting alarm bells to sound at any moment, and the place to fill with Dread guards carrying stun guns. But nothing happened.

Her heart racing with hope, she approached a computer terminal. If she could find out where she was, learn the layout of the place, steal a ship, send a message to Jon-- She could do it, she could really do it. Drain the computer of information, take all that data back, all Dread's plans, enough info to destroy him for good this time.

Her hand hesitated over the computer's keypad. A thought occurred to her, a vague nagging of instinct.

This is too easy.

Dizziness struck her, and she almost fell. She grabbed the edge of the console to steady herself--and it felt wrong. She shut her eyes against a flash of light, blinked to focus--

She was in the jumpship, gripping the edge of Mentor's terminal. She'd been asleep. She hadn't remembered getting up, moving here. That was a dream, not real.

But if she'd continued sleepwalking like that, she would have happily searched through Mentor's files and transmitted the data, believing all the time that it was really Dread's computers.

Her head throbbed from an ache originating at the metal implants. She'd fought so hard to break free of the machine, and now look at her.

-----------------------

She sat on her bunk, hugging her knees, and looked inward, as if she could run a diagnostic on herself, like she was one of the skybikes. She saw things that weren't real. She didn't know how, but she saw one thing and her mind showed her another. She could never know if what she was doing was what she _thought_ she was doing. The doubling of logic, of reality, confused her. She imagined she could feel the nanoscopic wires penetrating her brain, firing artificial synapses, controlling her in ways she couldn't imagine. The thought immobilized her.

A familiar electronic hiss and crackle startled her out of her reverie. She looked up in time to see the Captain's power suit dissipate in a release of energy. Jon stood in the warrior's place, in his uniform, looking on her with concern. His routine had changed--now when he came back from a mission, he checked on her before even powering down his suit.

Slowly, he came and sat on the other end of the bunk--too far away for him to hold her. She wasn't sure she wanted to be held just now. She felt like she might explode.

"I haven't seen you look that angry since you first left the Dread Youth," he said, smiling a little.

She furrowed her brow, surprised. Anger--was that what she was feeling? She supposed it was. And he was right. The last time she'd felt this. . .helpless, this furious. . .was right after she'd left the Dread Youth. She hadn't known what would happen to her then, either.

"How'd the mission go?" she asked.

"Fine. The ammunition we stole will last us a good six months. But--it seems like we've become little more than thieves. Not that stealing from Dread bothers me. But we ought to be better than that."

"You are, Jon. Dread will fall, it's only a matter of time."

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. He didn't sound convinced. She'd never seen him look so. . .so tired.

Finally, after a long silence, he was the one who said, "What's wrong?"

She winced, and tears welled in her eyes. "You need to revoke my code access to Mentor. To all the ship's systems."

He stared, confused. "Why?"

"I'm afraid I might do something. I wouldn't mean to. But I can hear them in my mind, Jon. Dread, Overmind. I'm not sure they aren't here now, hearing everything, learning your secrets--"

He shook his head. "We've scanned you a dozen times, there aren't any transmissions, we'd know if there were. They can't get to you, they aren't hearing anything. Anything else--it's residual programming."

"Jon--"

"Jennifer, I trust you."

"But I don't trust myself."

The tears fell. She was trembling, like something inside her was breaking. She wouldn't hurt them, she couldn't let Dread use her to hurt them, Jon had to understand that.

"All right," he said. "I'll do it."

"Thank you. Oh Jon--" She leaned forward, reaching for him. He caught her and held her while she cried.

------------------------

48-3 Mark 29

They made camp at a site in the southern desert. Gathering outside the jumpship, they were catching up on routine maintenance of equipment, repairing glitches, cleaning, and such. A small campfire burned, leftover from breakfast. The day was clear for once, faint blue sky visible behind the usual haze of pollution.

Scout was telling a story. "So then Tank gets the bright idea that blasting a hole in the floor is a much more efficient way to travel from one level to the next than taking the stairs--"

"Was I wrong?" Tank said.

Hawk muttered, "The lump on my head says yes."

Jennifer, spanner in hand, was repairing the transmission on one of the skybikes. She paused often to look at the others, who were catching her up on stories from the weeks she'd been away.

While she watched Scout, Jon watched her. She glanced at him from time to time. His smile was vague, contented, and he seemed deep in thought, not listening to the story at all.

Scout went on. "I have to hand it to him, though. Biomechs certainly aren't programmed to look for attacks from _above_. The only problem after that was how to get the jumpship to the basement."

She laughed. "How did you guys ever survive without me to rescue you?"

Jon looked away. The mood turned somber, and Jennifer's smile fell.

Quietly, Hawk answered her. "It was touch and go there for a while."

She played with the spanner for a moment, turning it back and forth, from hand to hand. "Did I ever thank you all? For saving me?"

Scout huffed. "You don't have to. You would have done the same if it had been any of us."

"I mean the first time," she said. "You could have left me behind, with the Dread Youth. You didn't know me then, there was no reason for you to give me a chance. But you did. So, thanks."

Jon caught her gaze. She'd never look away again, she thought. She could look into his eyes forever.

He said, "I think we got the better end of the deal."

-----------------------------

Jennifer kept watch while the others were on a mission. She and the jumpship, together again. She waited in the cockpit, by the radio, for a signal. Anything.

A red light flashed. Something on the diagnostic panel. Text scrolled: proximity alert. Lifeform detected outside the ship. They were isolated, in hiding. No one should have found them.

Two choices: lock down and hope it went away. Or check it out. Might be somebody needing help.

She took a gun and opened the ramp door.

Slowly, she climbed down the steps to the ground, keeping in the ship's shelter. She wanted to be able to duck back inside at any sign of trouble. Without her power suit, she felt almost naked. Unfortunately, she was getting used to it.

The air was still. Because of that, she heard footsteps crunching on the desert sand. Heavy, slow. Couldn't have been a biodread, they were noisier. The rocks caused echoing; she couldn't tell where the steps were coming from. Only that they were coming closer, to her.

Then, a bulky, cloaked figure appeared from behind a stand of rocks. Dark, ponderous, with a mechanical suit and electronic implants replacing half his face. Dread himself.

How had he found them? Never mind, no time for questions. She leveled her weapon, gripping it with both hands. She grit her teeth.

Dread raised his hands, stepped closer. "Preserve all life. Isn't that your vow?"

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was tight.

"I've come to bring you home."

"_This_ is my home!"

He looked around, obviously thinking little of the temporary desert camp and scarred jumpship. He brought his hands to his breast in a gesture of supplication. "I gave you everything. I gave you a second chance. Still, you reject me." He actually sounded offended.

His voice hurt her head. She winced, but didn't dare look away from him. "I'm warning you. Leave here or I'll shoot."

"I came to tell you that Power is dead. The rest of his soldiers--all dead. I suppose you could say their last mission was a failure."

She was shaking her head before he finished speaking. "No. You're lying. I'd have heard. I'd have. . .felt something." She was sure she'd know it, she'd feel it, if Jon were dead.

"_Felt_ something." He tsked her. "I spare you for now because you have touched the machine. There is still hope for you. Overmind will have you again."

"No, no." She backed away, stumbling up the stairs to the ship. Close to blind panic, her finger tightened on the trigger. She could kill him now, finish this whole thing, finish the war once and for all. Jon wasn't dead, he _wasn't_--

From the side, something--someone--grabbed her gun hand and forced it up. She never even heard them coming.

She shouted a denial, struggled in her enemy's grip. A second one was on her in a moment. They pinned her arms, pried the gun out of her hands, held her immobile. She waited for the whine and scream of an approaching biodread.

"Jennifer! Pilot! Stand down, that's an order!"

Jon's voice, right by her ear.

She blinked, suddenly dizzy. Her balance failed, she fell. Jon caught her. And Hawk, he was there too. They lowered her onto a seat in the cockpit. They looked at her, their expressions furrowed with concern.

Again, she shook her head, blinking, struggling to gain her bearings. It was the lab all over again. She looked. She was in the hold of the jumpship.

She tried to catch her breath. Her heart was racing. "I was just outside. Dread--Dread was there, he said you were dead, he said--I had to, I had to shoot, I--"

Jon pointed to the other side of the cockpit, the spot where she would have sworn the rock outcropping was, where she _knew_ she'd seen Dread standing.

Tank stood there, staring back at her, subdued and wary.

She grimaced with anguish and pulled out of Jon's and Hawk's grips. She covered her eyes with the heels of her hands, squeezing as if she might push the truth into her mind, or shove the demons out.

Dread still had her in his grip. She'd escaped, but she hadn't.

"Jennifer." Jon's hand brushed her arm, but she shoved away, stood to get away from them all. She'd hurt them. If she stayed, she'd hurt them all.

Still shaken, she ran up against the hull of the ship before she could escape, slid to the floor, pressed her face against her knees.

She sensed him approach, but didn't look up. Let him sit beside her, let him pull her into an embrace.

"I was sent to betray you. To kill you. That's the trap."

"Yeah," he said. "It looks that way."

"You have to leave me behind. I can't stay with you."

"No. We'll fix it. We'll find a way."

For the moment, she was safe in his arms, and she believed him.

---------------------------

She awoke before dawn, wrapped in a blanket, lying on the sand at their camp. The fire had burned out. Only charred, blackened coals remained. In fact, if she put her hand on the remains, she guessed they'd be cold, as if the fire had died out days ago.

She looked around. She was alone. Four blankets lay tossed aside, but their owners were gone.

"Jon?" she called, wincing at how her voice echoed against the nearby rocks. She stood, walked a few steps. The world was gray. The sun was close to rising, but that only made the shadows more foreboding. "Hawk? Tank? Scout? Where are you?"

No one answered.

They wouldn't have left without her. If there'd been an alarm, if some emergency had drawn them away, they would have woken her. "You're not alone," Jon had told her. His words had warmed her.

_You are alone._

No, she'd been through this before. That wasn't Dread; it sounded like him, but he wasn't here. He was miles away, locked in Volcania--

Transmitting to her, to the implant in her brain. Controlling her, even now.

"No," she said, holding her head, shaking herself mentally, squeezing her eyes shut and opening them again. But she didn't wake up.

She heard a rumble in the air, a vibration in the ground that she recognized as an approaching Dread troop transport. Then, a roar sounded in the distance, the strangely animalistic call of a biodread, the rumble of massive footsteps. Blastarr.

She ran to the jumpship, shouting into the open door. "Jon!"

He had to be there. Someone had to be there. But the ship was empty.

Then, another sound--laser blasts, but not from clickers or biodread. Those were Power's team's weapons, coming from the other end of the ravine. She ran toward the sound, keeping close to the ground. She had to see them, she just had to see--

And she did. She saw much more than she wanted. All of them--the Captain, Hawk, Tank, and Scout--were pinned against the rocks, firing their guns for all they were worth, but it was no use. A hundred biomechs fired back, and Blastarr pounded laser blasts at them. One by one, the men's suits failed, leaving them exposed, vulnerable.

Blastarr, laughing, rolled in front of them. The cannon on its arm rotated into place--the digitizer. It had them in its sights, Jon and the others had no place to run to.

She had a flash of memory: back at the base, her suit's power depleted, facing down that monster with nothing to protect her, nothing to hurl at it but curses. She punched the destruct key, just as the digitization cannon rotated into place. The glare and pain that had engulfed her hadn't been the explosion at all--

"No!" Jennifer screamed,

Jon looked over at her, and an expression crossed his face, half-anguish, half-rage. Betrayed. He thought he'd been betrayed. "Why?" He spat the words. "We trusted you--why sell us out?"

She shook her head. No, she hadn't, she'd never. She had to tell him, had to explain--

But the violet light burst forth from Blastarr's gun, the wide arc of the ray encompassed them all, Power and his men screamed, and were gone, vanished into the machine--

Then Blastarr looked at her with all its malevolence.

She ran. She turned and ran, back to the ship. Mentor's memory banks were in danger, the last two power suits, she had to keep them from falling into Dread's hands. She could rig the ship's reactor to overheat, to explode and destroy all the data, all the equipment, all Jon's secrets. She'd done it before, she'd do it again. And she'd wait for the explosion, let herself be destroyed too because without Jon she had nothing--

She could do it, too. Destroy the ship. Exactly what Dread would want her to do.

She dropped to her knees, wrapped her arms around her head to cut out Blastarr's grating laughter, and prayed that this wasn't real.

----------------------------------

She opened her eyes. The lab again. Scientists in lab coats, emotionless men and women who refused to acknowledge her pain, her screams, surrounded her. One of them held a syringe.

_We still haven't learned anything of value._

_She's in love with Captain Power._

_We knew that._

_Perhaps we could use that--_

_No! I want data that will crush the resistance. I want Power and his men destroyed. And I want _her_ to do it._

And again the world shifted, and she opened her eyes, though she couldn't remember closing them.

She stood in the assembly hall of a Dread installation. Row upon row of Dread Youth soldiers gathered here. A cadet standing beside her held aloft the scarlet banner of Dread's New Order. She herself was wearing the uniform of an Overunit. She was Overunit Chase.

The thought filled her with revulsion.

Above her, a holographic projection of Dread spouted the promise of the New Order, and the troops called the litany of anti-life back at him.

_You have returned to the fold, as I always knew you would,_ a comforting voice said.

No. Her core burned: Dread and his New Order must be destroyed.

Dread spoke to the assembly. "This day we recognize the achievement of Overunit Chase. Her mission to infiltrate Captain Power's unit and destroy it from within was successful beyond our wildest expectations."

It wasn't true, none of it was true, she hadn't destroyed Power and the others, she couldn't--

"The path before us is now clear, and the Age of the Machine will arrive at last. Let Overunit Chase be a model for us all."

The crowd cheered.

Jennifer dodged out of formation and turned to shout at them. "No! Don't listen! It's all lies, don't you see it? Dread has fought for fifteen years and failed! You're human, you're all human--fight the machine! Fight Dread's lies!"

People on either side of her grabbed her arms, tried to hold her back, but she kicked at them and struggled, kept shouting. She ripped the emblems off her uniform and threw them at Dread's stern visage.

Hands clawed at her, pulling her back, shaking her--

"Jennifer! Look at me, look at me!"

The world turned upside, shifted again, a pain wracked her head, and she thought she was going to throw up.

"It's not real, it's not real." When would she know? When would she know that the world around her was real? She'd lost it. She'd lost her mind in Dread's lab. "It's not real."

"Jennifer! Snap out of it!" Someone was shouting at her.

She swatted at him, pushing him away. Gasping in a panic, she shoved away, tried scuttling backward, and fell.

She sat there a moment, half-sprawled in the dirt. Her breathing slowed and she looked around. Finally, her eyes were open. She was back at the desert camp, in the shadow of the jumpship, where she'd fallen. She'd seen Blastarr, she was going to destroy the ship to keep Dread from finding it.

Jon was there, kneeling a step away. He stared at her.

Was this real?

She swallowed. "Blastarr was here. You were digitized, I saw it. I was going to destroy the ship. But it wasn't real."

He moved to her side, but she turned away, shivering. She didn't want to hurt him--if it was him, and how did she know? This could all be a trick to make her feel safe, to make her comfortable. She'd do anything for Jon, but what if it wasn't really him?

"I don't know where I am anymore," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't know who I am." She squeezed her hands to her head and huddled in on herself.

If she didn't move, she wouldn't do anything to hurt her friends. If she didn't think, Dread couldn't reach her.

"Jennifer." Anguish strained his voice, as if he too were on the verge of crying. He wouldn't cry, not him. He was the strongest person she knew.

"What do you want me to do?" he said.

She looked at him. His face was tense; he frowned. He seemed far away. She was slipping--she was losing. These weren't people anymore. Just paper cut outs sent to torment her.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"Let's get to the ship. Let's get out of here."

She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away. Her being on the ship was too dangerous--for them, for her, for everyone. It had all become too complicated.

"Corporal Chase, that's an order. Stand up and get back to the ship." He stood and held his hand to her.

She stared at him. He was angry, she could tell. His expression had turned hard, his lips were a second away from a snarl. Even his hand, stretched toward her, was tense, trembling. He looked like he wanted to break something. He rarely, rarely looked that way. And never at her.

But he wasn't angry _at_ her. He was angry at _this_--like she was.

"Corporal Chase, don't make me say it again," he said.

Remarkably, she felt a smile turn on her lips.

"Trust you to pull rank," she said. She used to tease him about that, how he ran his outfit on such loose terms until it suited him to be in charge.

Jon dropped his arm, deflating, and chuckled softly. "If you weren't so damned insubordinate. Why can't you ever follow orders?"

She took his hand, and he helped her to her feet.

"You okay?" he said.

She kept hold of his hand. He certainly felt real. But so had every shock, every prod, every stab of pain, every heartache. She shook her head. "No, Captain. I'm not."

---------------------

_You will return to us. You will return._

She tried to shut out the voice. But it was inside her.

I will not return. I will not do anything. She sat on her bunk, hugging her knees, her eyes closed. She would disappear.

She should have died.

Maybe she had, and this was hell. She'd tried to redeem herself for what she'd done as part of the Dread Youth. But it hadn't been enough. Her hell was to betray those she loved, over and over again.

"How long can she stay like that?" Jon said.

Hawk answered, "I don't know. She's a stubborn kid."

Not thinking was hard. She couldn't help but overhear the hushed conference the others held on the other side of the room.

Jon let out a deep sigh. "I'll send her to Eden II. They might have the technology to remove the implant, or at least help her. They have doctors. Psyche people. If nothing else she'll be safe there."

And they'd keep her from hurting anyone. Almost, it sounded like a good idea. If it didn't sound like another trap.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Hawk said. "We still don't know everything they did to her, and we can't risk exposing Eden II to any danger."

"We've been over it a hundred times, Dread isn't tracking her."

"Hawk's right," Scout said. "There may be dormant programming buried so deeply that we don't even know it's there. All we know is Dread sent her back to do damage, without her even knowing it. We all know what she's capable of doing."

Hawk said, "She knows enough to bring down the whole resistance."

"She wouldn't do that. She's stronger than that."

"And that's what's brought her this far," Hawk said. "But she's breaking, Jon."

She felt them all looking at her.

"So what do we do about it?"

Scout said, "Keep her sedated. Take her to the Passages. The doctors there can look after her, and she'll be safe. She stays asleep until we find out how to neutralize that thing in her brain. We scour Tech City and find someone who can help."

Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut. That solution was logical, completely reasonable. But it sounded like giving up.

Jon voiced what she was thinking. "We'll be losing her all over again. I'm not sure I can take that."

"It's only temporary," Scout said softly.

"You hope." She'd never heard Jon's voice cut so, laced with pain, and bitter.

She raised her head, opened her eyes--she couldn't help it, she forgot her vow to lock out the world. She caught Jon's gaze. He'd been watching her the whole time.

"I wish--" Her voice broke. The other three glanced at her; their stances were nervous. She kept her gaze on Jon and tried again. "I keep wishing that the next time I wake up, I'll really wake up, and I'll be back at the base, and everything will have been a nightmare. The reactor explosion, Dread's lab, the implant, everything. I'll wake up with everything just the way it was before, only this time I'll have the courage to tell you how I feel. Before it's too late. I'm so sorry, Jon. I never wanted to hurt you, I never wanted to be a burden--"

"Jennifer, you aren't a burden," he said. "You're a gift."

Hawk made an obvious movement, tapping Scout on the shoulder. "Scout, Tank, I think the skybikes need to be restowed. You want to come help?"

"Tank and I just did that."

"They were fine an hour ago--"

Hawk pointed at them, pointed to hatch leading out of the hold, and gave them his hell to pay look. Scout caught it first.

"Right," he said. "Skybikes. Hold. Come on, Big Guy." He patted Tank's shoulder.

"What? Oh. Right." Tank caught it when Scout made a not-so-subtle nod at Jon and Jennifer.

A moment later, they were gone. She and Jon were alone.

"That was a little blatant," Jon said, crossing his arms. "I suppose I'll have to thank Hawk later."

She smiled. Surely if this weren't real, if this were a Dread-induced nightmare vision, she wouldn't be able to smile. Jon wouldn't be moving toward her, a sheepish look on his face overcoming the tension, a light in his eyes. Surely her heart wouldn't lurch at the sight of him.

She wet her lips and said, "What Scout said, it's probably the best thing to do. It makes sense."

"You really think that?"

"It scares the daylights out of me. I could never wake up, and I'd never know."

"Except you don't know if you're awake now, do you?"

Her tears fell. She wasn't going to cry anymore. She'd told herself she wasn't going to cry--

"I keep thinking, maybe I really did die, and this is hell. I tried to make up for what I did in the Dread Youth, but it wasn't enough, I should have done more--"

"Jennifer." He sat beside her on the bunk, but she couldn't bring herself to fall into his arms. She thought, _I'll do nothing. Then I can't hurt him._

"I wish I could believe that you're real," she said.

After a moment, he said, "Can you pretend? Just for a little while."

She looked at him. Just for a little while. This was their second chance. A moment's bliss in hell, wasn't that worth some risk? He was close enough she could see every laugh line in his face, every crease of worry, every fleck of color in his eye. She'd never had a chance to study him so closely.

A moment of bliss. If that was all she could have, then so be it. She leaned against him, and he wrapped his arms around her. He smoothed the tears from her cheeks and kissed the top of her head. His breath rustled her hair. She closed her eyes and held him as tightly as she could.

"I love you, Jennifer," he whispered.

Her heart seemed to stop for a moment. Her whole body tingled. "You do?"

"Yeah, I do."

She held him close, he cradled her in his arms. They must have stayed like that for hours, though Jennifer lost track of time. They didn't even speak. She felt warmth, and simple joy. How Dread ever thought that getting rid of organic bodies was a good idea was beyond her, when two bodies holding each other like this seemed to make the world perfect. She wished the world would freeze like this.

But silence never was silent, for her. She didn't tell Jon about the voices that whispered to her.

_She is resisting. Even now, she resists._

_I am displeased with the progress of this experiment._

_We'll try again, my lord. We have other options._

_Very well. Do not fail me._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

48-3 Mark 31

One thing was certain: this couldn't go on. Something had to give.

They received word of an attack on a settlement. The Captain and Hawk went to investigate. Tank patrolled the perimeter of their new camp. Scout was tinkering inside the jumpship. They left her sleeping in the hold. Jennifer made them promise not to sedate her while she slept--to tell her before they did it, if they were going to go that route. She wanted to be able to say goodbye.

In return, she promised to stay inside the ship and not touch anything. She made the promise with the full intention of breaking it. Wearing a flight jacket and carrying a spare crash helmet, she snuck out of the hold's cargo hatch and unloaded one of the skybikes.

Her voice code authorization no longer worked on the skybike, so she hacked past it and switched the controls to manual. She only had a few moments; Scout, Tank, or both of them would hear the bike launching. She wanted to be away before they could stop her.

She had to get away before she lost her nerve. She was sneaking out, disobeying orders, she knew she was. _If you weren't so damned insubordinate. . ._ Jon was right, she never could follow orders. But a part of her was thrilled: she was back in action. It felt great, sitting on the bike, leaning over the controls, gripping the handlebars.

Being around the others muddled the situation for her. She couldn't keep wondering if they were real, or if the danger around them was real, or if it was all an illusion. She had to work this out on her own.

Her hand was inches from the ignition when Scout appeared and slapped his hand over the control panel, blocking it.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he said, sounding phenomenally annoyed.

Slowly, she straightened, took off the helmet, and held it on the seat in front of her. She couldn't meet his gaze.

"I need help. I'm going to go find it."

"Alone? Just like that, without telling anyone? Do you have any idea how devastated the Captain would be if he came back and found out you were gone? No, I guess you wouldn't. You weren't around to see what he went through the last time he lost you."

She looked at him, slack-jawed, her gaze piercing. He might as well have stabbed her in the gut.

He looked away. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

"Was it that bad?" she said softly.

He blew out a sigh and shook his head. "Until we got you back, we couldn't talk to him. He turned into this ice-cold, single-minded. . .maniac."

She could see it. Jon had accomplished what he had because of sheer, bull-headed determination. To have that drive turn destructive would be frightening.

"I don't know what to do, Scout."

"How about I go with you."

He wasn't smiling; he wasn't joking. "What?"

"I'll go with you."

This was some trick. They'd be lured into a trap, and she'd watch him die, or she'd think she'd be firing at the enemy but hit him instead. She shook her head. "I can't ask you--"

"Same old Pilot, still trying to do everything all by yourself. I'll watch your back. You can't go into Tech City by yourself. None of us could."

She blinked, surprised. "How do you know that's where I'm going?"

He tapped his finger against his temple and grinned. "Psychic."

She tried to convince herself that he was too much like Scout to be an illusion. But the implant drew on her own memories--the programming that controlled what she saw would show her the Scout she most wanted to see, energetic and funny, always ready with a quip. Her own mind would betray her in the end.

She said, "I'm not sure I can trust you. That you're not some phantom who'll make me show Dread where the Passages are--"

"See, this is why I wanted it in writing when you said you trusted me. I knew this would come up."

Now, he was joking. She sometimes wished he would be more serious. Then again, if she didn't laugh she'd have to cry. "Why would you trust me? After the way I've been acting."

"It's not you I don't trust, it's that implant, and the sooner we get rid of it the better. To tell you the truth I'd rather have you along for the ride than comatose back at the Passages."

She studied him for a moment, his almost permanent smirk, at odds with the intense look in his eyes. This man was deadly, but he'd laugh the whole time he was planting the bomb to destroy a warehouse.

"Are you real?" she asked.

"You keep saying that," he said wryly. "How are you ever going to believe me, no matter what I say?"

"I guess I just have to keep moving and hope for the best. Things couldn't get much worse."

"Don't say that, Pilot. Don't ever say that."

She didn't say anything, though she didn't think this could get much worse--she wouldn't know that until she learned just how bad things really were.

"If we're going to do this we should get going."

"I think we should wait for the Captain."

She'd thought of that. "No. He'll want to go himself, and he can't risk it. He's too well known there. Someone would report him to Dread in minutes."

Scout pursed his lips. He was going to argue, and she braced for it. In the old days, her going on a mission alone wouldn't have bothered any of them.

In the old days she didn't unexpectedly black out and hallucinate, convincing herself she was somewhere else, and try to shoot her friends.

Finally, he said, "I hate to admit it, but I think you're right. But he is _not_ going to like this," Scout said with a smirk.

"If you have any other suggestions I'd love to hear them. But I have to try something. I can't just sit back and. . .and go completely insane."

"All right, then. But I'm driving--can't have you deciding we're not really airborne, can we?"

He had the gall to smile.

-------------------------------

They hid the skybike in a ravine outside town. Scout had rigged a smaller version of the holographic projector that masked the jumpship. The vehicle blended in with the rock; no one would find it.

Jennifer had almost left without him; he'd run back to the ship for supplies. She didn't just take off then, figuring he'd only chase her down with the other skybike. She'd thought about it. Now, she was glad he came. He had the espionage training. _He'd_ thought things through, and brought changes of clothes that would let them blend in with the locals.

Garbed in worn trousers, oversized jackets, gloves, scarves that pulled over their faces and disguised their features, they wandered into Tech City, looking like the typical scavengers that lived on the fringes of human settlements, trading the odd detritus of fallen civilization, scrounging a hard living out of the waste. People like that were common, living day to day. Barely living. Most of them were thin, dirty, ragged. Many of them ran from help, when Power and his team approached them with it. When Lord Dread spoke of humanity as a plague, filthy creatures who were a blight upon the earth, this was what he was talking about.

Dread failed to mention that if not for his Metal Wars that had scoured the earth and left much of it uninhabitable, most of the scavengers wouldn't have to live like that. Another of Dread's convenient myths.

Pilot and Scout kept their heads bowed, walking past other people who traveled the streets without pausing. She glanced at the symbols above shops, scanned the wares displayed on peddler's carts. She needed to find someone who dealt in biomechanical cyberware, someplace where such devices were sold, installed, implanted. Someone who knew something about turning people into machines. A few times, she caught glimpses of people with cybernetic implants visible on their faces or skulls--devices that allowed them to interface directly with computers. They'd had it done to themselves voluntarily. There were people here who did that to other people. Her own face itched where metal circuitry met flesh. She couldn't imagine wanting to merge with a machine like that.

Then again, yes, she could. She'd wanted it herself once. _We will be given over to the machine, mechanized, immortal human minds in undying metalloid bodies_. The litany of anti-life, the creed of the Dread Youth. She still remembered, no matter how much she wanted to forget. Praise of the machine was a religion to some people. She fought against that. Mustn't forget. Life was sacred.

Jon taught her that the first time they met, when he didn't shoot her outright. He'd confused her, by letting her live. She hadn't understood until later.

Scout stopped at a corner and gazed around, lips pursed, looking frustrated. "Even if we find someone who can tell us about that implant, I doubt we could trust them farther than we could throw them. We don't dare go to Mindsinger, after what happened last time. Not that we could afford her."

"Don't we have any friends here?" Surely someone around here owed Power and his team a few favors. She'd sort of been counting on it.

"Not after we came here looking for Locke. Right after the base blew." He gave her a wry, sidelong glance. "We were pretty upset."

Locke, their informant, had given them a data disk of information. The disk was blank. She'd been at the base, alone, when she discovered that the whole thing was a lure to give Dread its location. Vaguely worried, she said, "Did you find him?"

"Yup," Scout said with a satisfied nod.

"What did you do to him?"

He shrugged. "Took him to the Passages, stuck him in a deep hole where he could reflect on his actions for a good long time. Funny thing, he said he was sorry he'd done it the moment it happened. Then we told him that you'd there when the base blew, and the poor sucker couldn't stop crying. Kept saying how sorry he was." Scout pressed his lips into a thin, ironic smile. "I think Tank was disappointed that he didn't get to rough him up a little. I think we all were."

She could understand the impulse. She felt a small ember of anger--but it had happened so long ago, to her mind and experience, it hardly seemed worth bothering with now. "That wouldn't have been right, you know."

"Yeah, that's what the Captain said. _After_ he took his hands off the guy's throat."

She gazed thoughtfully around. They were strangers here, no doubt about it. But people were people. They had to be able to make a deal.

Scout said, "We need to find someone who appreciates a challenge. This implant is straight from Dread's research lab. It's got be more advanced tech than most of the stuff floating around here. Whoever gets it out can have it."

Pilot blinked, and the world shifted--no. She shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again. She remained standing on the Tech City street with Scout. No lab, no confusion.

In fact, she felt a kind of certainty now. She touched Scout's arm and pointed. "Let's try this way."

"What's this way?"

"I don't know, I just have this feeling."

"You sure you can trust your feelings?"

She didn't answer. She felt like something else guided her body as she moved. It was the movement of a dream, of a nightmare--she knew when she opened the door the monster would be waiting for her, Soaron's chrome jaws and glowing eyes. She'd had that nightmare even before she left the Dread Youth.

"Scout." She squeezed his arm, stopping him. She looked: they were standing in front of a set of stairs, leading down to a solid doorway set in a concrete wall. It was the basement of a blockish building, two stories, with narrow windows that had bars over them.

"Should I power on my suit?"

They used the suits sparingly, since along with the base they'd lost the means of recharging them. She shook her head. "Maybe if you wait here--"

"I'm not letting you in there alone, even there is someone in there who can help you. Are you sure about this?"

She shook her head. "Something isn't right."

Nonetheless, without any volition on her part, she descended the stairs and moved the latch on the door.

"Pilot--"

She moved forward into a well-lit space, with clean white walls and a slick linoleum floor. Banks of medical equipment lined the walls, and in the center of the room was a padded chair, half-reclined, with straps on the arms and footrest.

The man who stepped before her wore the uniform of an Overunit.

"Well, doctor," he said smugly. "You were right. She did find her way here. At least _that_ part of your programming worked."

Others moved into her sight--they wore white lab coats, and she recognized their faces. Recognized them from her half-awake dreams.

"Scout!" She turned to warn him.

A dozen human troops lurked in the corners for them. They rushed Pilot. Her instincts--her own, human instincts, not machine programming--kicked in. She ducked one set of arms, spun to dodge another. Someone grabbed her arm before she could reach her gun. She leveraged off her captor to kick another soldier in the gut.

Someone yelled, "Stop him, before he activates that damned suit!"

She'd never fought so hard, and the attack came from all sides. She was hurting them, too. One man fell, knocking another over. Another groaned when she chopped him in the back.

"Stop, Chase! Stop, or we'll kill your friend."

She froze, looked--two soldiers pinned Scout against the wall. A third held a rifle to his head. The Overunit in command spoke again.

"Surrender, or we'll shoot him."

She looked at Scout. He was breathing hard, and the collar of his shirt was torn, revealing the gleam of power suit underneath. The Dread soldiers immobilized his arms, or he'd have touched his badge in a heart beat. He stared back, his expression hard, unreadable. He must have thought she'd betrayed him, that she'd done this on purpose. Her head throbbed. She touched her temple; her fingers came away bloody. She hadn't even remembered getting hit.

"Do you surrender?" the Overunit demanded.

Slowly, she held up her hands. She'd lost. All this struggling for nothing.

"Good," he purred, with what seemed an unmachine-like amount of pride. He turned to the doctor, and the purr turned into a scowl. "She was supposed to be alone. But I suppose Lord Dread will be pleased to have another of Power's soldiers in hand."

Pilot repeated the words to herself. This wasn't part of the implant. The programming had activated in order to force her to come here. But Scout wasn't supposed to be here.

Which meant Scout wasn't part of the programming. He was real. He was part of the same reality where Jon had held her and told her he loved her. _That_ was real.

Everything snapped into place. Finally, she felt awake. Too late, though--it was over, and she'd dragged Scout down with her.

Scout held her gaze, like he was trying to tell her something.

She said, "Scout, I'm so sorry--"

"It's okay--"

"I'm sorry for getting you into this."

"Pilot. It's going to be okay. Trust me."

"Your optimism is laughable," the Overunit said. Two of the scientists approached her. One of them held a syringe, testing it as he neared. Her heart pounded; she thought she was going to faint. They wouldn't even have to sedate her.

She wouldn't go back. She wouldn't go back to that nightmare state of being half-awake, half-alive.

The doctor with the syringe grabbed her arm and she flinched away. "No--"

"Remember your friend, Chase--we will shoot him!"

Scout was real. She knew this because Dread and the machine were incapable of creating a program that displayed friendship, loyalty--love. Why had she ever doubted?

She wouldn't let them hurt Scout. She willed herself to remain still while the doctor stabbed her with the needle and depressed the plunger. The numbness set in immediately.

"Jennifer, hold on," Scout said through gritted teeth. "Just hold on a little longer, it's going to be all right."

"Shut up, you!"

You're not alone, Jon had told her once. She'd carried him, his spirit, with her ever since.

"How did you bring me here?" she said, struggling past the weariness that was settling over her. Scout wouldn't let her look away. Hold on, just hold on.

The Overunit explained. "We had to summon you back to fix whatever is obviously wrong with the implant. The homing program was set to activate if your mission remained uncompleted after a certain amount of time. You could have destroyed Power and his team five times over since we set you loose. Why haven't you?"

"Because I'm stronger than your programming. I'm stronger than the machine!" She was so tired.

"No, you're not."

Two soldiers pulled her limp arms over their shoulders and dragged her to the chair. Hands worked settling her in, tying her down with straps. Her mind screamed. She wouldn't give in, she wouldn't. But her body didn't move.

"Lord Dread, we have the traitor Chase. And one of Power's men--with a functional power suit. We're ready to proceed."

"Excellent." His voice, she'd heard that voice in her mind, she'd fought against it. The holographic projection appeared before her again. His red eyes looked hard at her. He said, "Youth Leader Chase. You have returned to the fold. As I always knew you would."

"No," she murmured.

_Jennifer, hold on._

-------------------------

_"Captain, I know you're going to kill me for this, but Pilot and I are headed to Tech City. Now, it's not as bad as it sounds--she started to go by herself. I talked her into letting me come along. She's determined to do something about this thing one way or another, and I can't say I blame her. But I think there's something else--something about the programming in that implant that's pushing her into this. Call it a hunch. Anyway, Dread's been using that implant to get to us--maybe this is a chance for us to use it to get to him. The receiver to your right will tune you into a homing transmitter I'm wearing. Now hopefully, when you find us, everything'll be fine and we'll have a good laugh. But if not. . .well. . . Sergeant Baker out." _

When they returned to the jumpship, Jon and Hawk found the hurried message Scout recorded. The receiver, a small device attached to a wrist band, lay right where Scout said it was. The time stamp on the message read two hours ago. Not long. Then again--too long.

Hawk's commentary was to the point, as usual. "Captain, if you're not going to kill him, I will."

"Not if I get to him first," Tank added, frowning fiercely.

Thoughtfully, Jon crossed his arms and stared at the receiver. Pilot hadn't been in complete control of her actions since she'd woken up from the coma. It was maddening--she'd fought so hard for her freedom, to break away from the machine, and now it trapped her. Short of knocking her out, Scout probably wouldn't have been able to stop her from leaving. He was right, then, to go with her. And if the implant was controlling her, leading her into danger, he'd be able to protect her.

And he'd need their help.

"Hawk, get the ship warmed up. We're going after them."

This time, she wouldn't be alone. This time, he could go to her.

-------------------

After masking the jumpship, the three donned the rough clothes of fringer nomads. They needed the disguises--they'd had too many run-ins in Tech City for them to be safe here. They wouldn't power on their suits until the last minute.

Jon followed the coordinates on the receiver's read-out. Hawk had point, scanning ahead of them for trouble. Tank brought up the rear. His intimidating presence kept people out of their way.

The receiver showed a steady ticking. Close, but not close enough. The receiver showed distance, but in the maze-like warren of streets and alleys that made up Tech City, Scout and Pilot could be anywhere.

"We ought to be right on top of it," Jon said.

Hawk slipped around the next corner, then called back over his shoulder. "Captain, I think this may be the place we're looking for."

Up ahead, four biomechs stood guard in front of a building with a basement level door.

Jon gave his friend a sardonic look. "You think?"

By the shelter of the opposite building, Power and his men huddled in conference.

"Once we take out those biomechs, they're sure to raise some kind of an alarm," Jon said. "We don't have any time to lose. We take them out, and keep moving, right through the door. Once inside, we assess. Incapacitate anyone in a Dread uniform. Find Scout and Pilot and get out. That's the objective: get everyone out alive." This time, everyone makes it out alive, Jon thought.

"And if it's a trap?" Hawk asked.

"Then we bring the building down on top of them. Tank, you'll hold the door. Leave us an exit if things get too hairy."

Tank nodded. "Power suits, yes or no?"

"Yes," Power said. "We won't have time to stop and activate them in the middle of things. I'm not worried about conserving power this trip." Nobody argued. He pressed his lips into a grim smile. "Then let's do it."

As a group, they straightened, and pressed their fists to the phoenix badges they wore.

"Power on!"

A charge of energy flared around them, hissing and snapping. Power's hair stood on end, then the comforting weight of the armor settled over him. When the aura of electricity faded, he looked out through the face shield of his helmet. Hawk and Tank, encased in their own armor, stood beside him.

"Tank, you take the two on the left. Hawk, the one on the right. I'll take the middle, then the door. Follow when you can."

"We'll be right behind you, Captain," Tank said grimly.

"Stepping on your heels." Hawk's grin turned cocky.

"Let's go."

They ran. Couldn't hesitate, couldn't pause. Couldn't give the clickers time to raise their weapons. Knife in hand, Power barreled into the biomech in the middle, shoving its rifle back at him the same time he drove his blade into the vulnerable circuitry of the neck. He threw the machine to the ground, at the same time ripping up with his weapon until the thing's head came off.

Power tossed it aside without pausing. He traded knife for blaster and gunned down the door. True to their words, Hawk and Tank were right on his heels, leaving a pile of twitching, sparking biomechs behind them.

He couldn't even pause to take in the scene, to find Jennifer, to make sure she was all right. A squad of overunits--human troops this time, not biomechs--faced him, gaping in shock.

At least Power and his team had the element of surprise with them.

Then, chaos took over the room.

"Ah-ha! It's about time you guys showed up!" That was Scout, being held against the wall by a couple of soldiers. Scout took advantage of the distraction and knocked their guns out of the way, and touching his fist to his phoenix badge. "Power on!"

"You might have left better directions!" Hawk said.

"Sorry," Scout said with his typical snide tone that meant he wasn't sorry at all.

Better odds, now. Good.

Tank had already thrown three troops against the far wall, Hawk was grappling with another. They didn't have time for this. Power looked for someone who looked to be in charge, while slamming to the floor and stunning a soldier who got in the way.

There, an overunit looking green around the gills. And behind him, a trio in lab coats. They didn't have weapons, and in fact were blinking, stunned, like fish. Power discounted them. The overunit, however, he grabbed by the collar and shoved to the wall. Without even thinking of it, his hand found his blaster and pointed the nose of it into the man's chin.

"Tell your people to stand down or I'll shoot," Power said to him. And at that moment he was angry enough, desperate enough, he might even do it.

The overunit attempted a defiant snarl. It came out more like a grimace. "I thought you made an oath to preserve life. You're famous for it. You won't shoot me."

Would he do it? Break the vow he'd managed to keep all these years? He'd come close before. So many times, he'd come close. Such a hard vow to keep when he saw Dread's followers flout it so casually. But he'd always held back. Was the overunit right? Was he incapable of shooting?

If it meant saving Jennifer, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He'd learn to live with it after she was safe.

He spat back, "I've about lost all patience with you people. You want to try me?"

The overunit's voice quavered. "Surrender! All troops surrender!"

But the fighting had already stopped. The few soldiers still conscious had paused to see what their commander would do. It was over, now.

"Tank, Scout, lock these clowns up somewhere." Power threw the overunit into Tank's waiting grip. He gestured to the doctors in the lab coats to follow. Scout was herding them all to what looked like a side closet.

Finally, Jon had a look around. In the back of the room was a lab: very high tech, very well equipped, filled with computers and monitors. In the middle of the lab area was a chair, and strapped to the chair was Jennifer. Jon suppressed a wave of dizziness brought on by panic. She was okay, she had to be okay--

She was awake. Her gaze met his, and she smiled.

Hawk was at her side first, ripping apart the straps, freeing her. Immediately, she tried to sit up, and nearly toppled over the side of the chair.

"Whoa there, not so fast!" Hawk steadied her. "We don't know what they doped you with."

She held her head in her hands. "I'm so confused," she muttered. "How did you find us?"

Scout, grinning madly, called back to her. "I did more than go back for supplies. I left a message for the cavalry."

Incredibly, after all she'd been through, Jennifer laughed. "I must be the luckiest idiot in the world to have friends like you."

Jon found the feeling of hope in him almost unbearable. Something had happened--she was smiling, laughing. She was _better_. He didn't notice moving to the chair where she'd been held prisoner. He was just there, by her side, like he'd always said he would be.

He touched her arm. "Pilot, the next time you decide to go haring off on a secret mission, I'm coming with you. Got it?"

She bit her lip and smiled. "Yes, sir."

He took off his helmet so he could meet her gaze eye to eye. _Never again_, he thought. _You'll never be alone again._

The gleam in her eye turned mischievous. Before he knew what was happening, she reached up, gripped the back of his neck, and with a surprising amount of strength for someone who'd recently been sedated, she pulled him toward her and kissed him. With her characteristic determination, she brought her lips to his and made it clear exactly how she felt.

This wasn't a dream. She didn't melt away.

His arms folded around her. He closed his eyes and reveled in her warmth, the life in her. This was worth fighting any number of battles.

He hated coming up for air. She pulled away first, resting her cheek against his.

Jon shifted to whisper in her ear. "I used to dream of this. I'd try to kiss you--and you'd disappear."

"But this isn't a dream. It's real. It's real this time."

A bomb could have dropped on them right then and they wouldn't have noticed. Scout, however, was another matter.

He leaned on the table at Jennifer's feet. Reluctantly, Jon looked away from her.

"Hey, you know, Captain, I think we've got the equipment here to neutralize that implant once and for all. What do you say, Pilot?"

She studied the room, all its computer banks, all the data stored there, all the equipment. She found Jon's hand and squeezed.

"The sooner we get started, the sooner we can get out of here and back to the real world."

The End


End file.
